They stick to family values in their home,
Their many offspring brought up to be tough,
But when they’re on the streets allowed to roam
Then life becomes a struggle, hard and rough
so education comes in heavy blows
scaping down a stinking city drains
or, injured, left to die as food for crows:
They have no doctors, pensions, or address,
No nurseries, care homes, savings in the bank
Their homes are always in a filthy mess
And yet they thrive in hovels rang and dank.
So how would cities cope with all the rats
Without the hunting skills of feral cats